There it was, on the call display screen last night. A phone number from the nations' capital that's one of several from a single source.
The Conservative Party of Canada.
I'm house sitting for awhile, and one of the nice things about call display, of course, is the chance to not pick up the phone for obvious telemarketers. The Conservatives up here are one such example. For more then two years, they've been calling the family home, looking for donations for the next election, the prosperity of the party, or the Evil Malevolent Schemes Fund.
My parents never answer. They've got all the numbers written down for telemarketers who frequently call, and they don't answer when they see familiar numbers. They're used to the incessant calls from the party of the neo-con religious right fanatics, so why bother answering to them anyway? Yesterday, while I was out, there was one call, no message, but the number was a Conservative number. And last evening, the phone rang again, and sure enough... the same number.
I should say right here that I consider myself a conservative, but I cannot in good conscience vote that way. Not with the party hijacked by a cabal of right wing regressive anti-government religious right jackals. Our not so esteemed Prime Minister is little more then a school yard thug who cares only for the opinion of those who agree absolutely with him. Does that sound familiar to those of you who had eight years of Dubya? It should.
His modus operandi has been to create a crisis where no crisis exists, to turn a minority Parliament into a viciously partisan environment constantly on election alert, to muzzle or destroy anyone who embarasses him, to disregard the opinion of career statisticians who state that his overhaul of the census will cause irreparable harm to the concept, and to suggest that prisons be built to house prisoners from crimes that aren't actually being reported.
Oh, and there's the whole turning a city he despises into an armed camp just so he can show himself off to the world at the G20 thing. Yes, that's what he thinks of Toronto.
Before this turns into an anti-Harper rant (it's not already?) there's the matter of the call. I decided to answer. Why not? And sure enough, there was one of the Conservative Party drones, asking for my mother, and then launching into the standard spiel about helping Stephen Harper do what's best for Canada. I interrupted, snapping at the guy for continuing their calls to the house, saying no one there would vote for them, and hung up.
I suspect he was wondering if I'd reach through the phone and strangle him.
And when the photographer left, Herr FrankenHarper ate the kitty....
The Conservative Party of Canada.
I'm house sitting for awhile, and one of the nice things about call display, of course, is the chance to not pick up the phone for obvious telemarketers. The Conservatives up here are one such example. For more then two years, they've been calling the family home, looking for donations for the next election, the prosperity of the party, or the Evil Malevolent Schemes Fund.
My parents never answer. They've got all the numbers written down for telemarketers who frequently call, and they don't answer when they see familiar numbers. They're used to the incessant calls from the party of the neo-con religious right fanatics, so why bother answering to them anyway? Yesterday, while I was out, there was one call, no message, but the number was a Conservative number. And last evening, the phone rang again, and sure enough... the same number.
I should say right here that I consider myself a conservative, but I cannot in good conscience vote that way. Not with the party hijacked by a cabal of right wing regressive anti-government religious right jackals. Our not so esteemed Prime Minister is little more then a school yard thug who cares only for the opinion of those who agree absolutely with him. Does that sound familiar to those of you who had eight years of Dubya? It should.
His modus operandi has been to create a crisis where no crisis exists, to turn a minority Parliament into a viciously partisan environment constantly on election alert, to muzzle or destroy anyone who embarasses him, to disregard the opinion of career statisticians who state that his overhaul of the census will cause irreparable harm to the concept, and to suggest that prisons be built to house prisoners from crimes that aren't actually being reported.
Oh, and there's the whole turning a city he despises into an armed camp just so he can show himself off to the world at the G20 thing. Yes, that's what he thinks of Toronto.
Before this turns into an anti-Harper rant (it's not already?) there's the matter of the call. I decided to answer. Why not? And sure enough, there was one of the Conservative Party drones, asking for my mother, and then launching into the standard spiel about helping Stephen Harper do what's best for Canada. I interrupted, snapping at the guy for continuing their calls to the house, saying no one there would vote for them, and hung up.
I suspect he was wondering if I'd reach through the phone and strangle him.
And when the photographer left, Herr FrankenHarper ate the kitty....
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